


Bloody Hands that Save Lives

by AllyMander



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Bludhaven Police Department, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson uses a gun, Good Slade Wilson, Kidnapped Dick Grayson, Police Officer Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllyMander/pseuds/AllyMander
Summary: Dick Grayson was carving out a life for himself in Blüdhaven as Nightwing and the new rookie detective. But when when on a call Dick is forced to aim his gun and pull the trigger. This is the story of the aftermath and how Dick finds peace in his actions and strengthens his resolve about being a hero.Even if someone like Batman wouldn't approve or understand.Because Dick wasn't a hero for Batman, but for the little girl with big emerald eyes and his fellow police officer Amy.Even if Dick will lose the respect of Batman, he gained Deathstroke's, so that's something.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 168





	Bloody Hands that Save Lives

We don’t kill.

That statement was branded into Dick’s mind at a young age, woven into the fiber of his very soul. But like his life things had been slowly unraveling for the hero. Bit by bit he questioned everything he had been taught; the foundations he had been placed upon.

He had left Bruce’s side because Dick wanted a life. He didn’t want to follow in Batman’s steps, give up everything for justice. Life was such a precious thing to Dick, after losing his parents all he wanted was friends, family.

Batman didn’t have time for such things.

So, Dick did the only thing he could think of, he left.

Considering he had the whole world at his fingertips Dick didn’t miss the irony he found his way to Blüdhaven. Dick knew it was because of the case he helped Bruce with, maybe Dick wanted to prove he could become a better hero than Batman. By doing it his own way.

So, Dick left the Titans, his role as Batman’s sidekick and made a new life. A new name for himself. Dick had never been so alone before, it was hard, most nights curling into his cold bed it hurt, but Dick refused to give up.

Maybe that’s why he enrolled into the police academy, in hopes to not only make a family out of the force but to work on both sides of the law.

It was Dick’s best idea yet, he was thriving.

It didn’t take long for the rookie to be thrusted into a higher role, taking the title of detective in three short years. Considering how many officers were thrown behind bars after Dick had proven their corruption as Robin, he hadn’t been surprised.

Not having to hack into the police’s data base every night was a breath of fresh air.

And thus, was Dick’s life. Burning the candle stick at both ends, forgoing self-care to clean up a city that thought Gotham was a good vacation destination. Dick wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Being able to slam the back door of his police cruiser on a lowlife and booking him was cathartic. He didn’t need to beat people to a pulp anymore to get answers, no more long stakeouts on roofs in the rain. Dick could get a warrant for what he was looking for, testify in court and watch with satisfaction when the jury came back with a guilty verdict.

Jumping from buildings caused laughter to bubble up his throat, a childish glee he had lost so many years ago. Dick didn’t have anyone breathing down his neck, unachievable expectations. Dick only had himself to worry about, his own goals and standards to uphold.

Being Nightwing was intoxicating, his suit exactly what he wanted, down to the smallest stitch. Using his escrima sticks felt natural, just like his baton. He got time to fiddle with his gear, always adding and taking things away, until he found the perfect arsenal.

Everything was perfect. Sure, he was exhausted, his body always ached with how hard he pushed. But Dick was happy, he found peace.

That’s when everything shattered.

Dick and his partner Amy were responding to a child abuse case. It should have been simple, heartbreaking but easy. The evidence was clear, the social services were coming to remove the little girl named Lillian from her abusive father who had affiliations with the mob. It was a common procedure at this point.

So why was Dick holding Amy in his arms as she bled out from a gun shot wound to the chest?

Trembling Dick pulled a gasping Amy behind the cruiser, trying his best to put pressure on her wound while calling for backup. Then Dick heard the screams, the call for help from a sobbing little girl.

Dick pulled his gun, aiming at the vile man named Danny, who gripped his sobbing seven-year-old. There was a gun pointed to her head, her emerald eyes were green and pleading.

“Drop yer gun or I’ll kill her!”

“D-Daddy?”

Shaking his own daughter Danny scowled down at Lillian, his grip causing clear pain as he spoke venom. “Shut it you lil’ shit.”

Keeping his voice calm, gun slipping in Dick’s blood covered hands he looked into Danny’s eyes and knew the man was telling the truth. Carefully Dick flipped his safety, tossing the gun to the side as he spoke to the criminal. “Alright I did what you asked, now let your daughter go.”

Scuffing Danny threw his daughter to the side, gun now aiming at Dick. “Stupid rookie.”

Without second thought Dick was moving, with spread only possible with his years of training. Ducking he pulled Amy’s gun from her holster, ignoring the bullets that grazed past his left ear. Pointing Dick didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger, sending three of his own bullets at his target with perfect accuracy.

Danny’s eyes widened as he looked down at his chest, three stains of growing crimson wetting his shirt.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

Dick moved around the car then, gun still in hand. His mind didn’t register what he had done, only saving Lillian and Amy were on his mind. Scooping up the sobbing girl from the pavement Dick quickly wrapped her in his heavy jacket, moving her into the back of the cruiser so he could focus on Amy.

“It’s okay now, you’re going to be okay. I got you.”

Dick didn’t even notice Lillian stayed at his side when he went back to Amy. How the little girl put a tiny hand on his back. Trying her best to offer comfort to her hero as he desperately tried to save one of his.

Time blurred for the three, until sirens blared, and lights flashed. Amy was quickly taken away, the paramedics swift and efficient.

We don’t kill.

Bruce’s words kept echoing in Dick’s mind as he curled his arms around Lillian, neither were willing to let go of the other just yet. Still Dick had a duty, he couldn’t crumble here, not in front of Lillian or the others.

As he and Lillian were giving a clean bill of health, Lillian was coaxed from his arms, her grandparents were eagerly waiting on the other side of the crime scene.

Crime scene.

We don’t kill.

Shaking his head Dick smiled down at the girl, walking her over to kind looking couple.

“Oh! Thank you! Baby come here; sweetheart it’s going to be okay.”

Dick looked down at Lillian then, his smile small and stressed. Her dainty arms were still lightly draped around his neck, looking to him for guidance. His voice was stressed when he finally spoke, but warm “See? Everything is going to be okay now. You’re safe.”

Lillian for her young years seemed to catch the emotions swirling in Dick’s eyes. Experiencing those emotions herself before. “What about you?”

Chuckling Dick handed Lillian over to her grandmother, smile growing a little more genuine. “I’ll be fine.”

When Dick’s captain called for him, he looked over his shoulder, smile dropping. With a final goodbye he stepped away from keen emerald eyes, ignoring the child’s clear concern. Kids really did pick up on everything.

It was procedure to launch a thorough investigation after every shooting. Dick was expecting it, not surprised when he had to give up his badge and gun. His actions saved a child, his partner, who would be making a full recovery.

Still, it was protocol, and Dick didn’t find himself minding.

For Bruce’s words still itched at the back of his mind. The man’s disapproving glare. It unsettled Dick and angered him to the core. The only downside of being a cop was the fact he carried a gun, had to target practice, preform maintenance on the weapon.

Dick didn’t care for guns as a child. But he understood the need for them. Learned to respect them for what they are.

Batman refused the use of guns. But Dick no longer followed the man.

Dick did the right thing, there was no other way. As an officer there was no other way, Dick didn’t regret his choice, there was no guilt.

Why did that seem to upset him so much?

Sliding onto his motorcycle Dick didn’t hesitate to weave through traffic, mind moving a million miles a minute. Clouded in thought Dick didn’t even notice he was being tailed. Or the van that parked behind him as he arrived at his apartment complex.

The man was oblivious until something smacked him on the back of the head, sending him sprawling onto cold, dirty pavement. Dick could barely focus on the blurry boots in his vision before everything went black.

-

Groaning Dick tried his best to swallow down the pain, eyes fighting to open. It didn’t take long for him to take inventory of his injuries, his current state. Eyes finally snapping open Dick’s scowl was instant, looking at the chains that currently bound his arms above his head.

Dick’s shirt had been torn away, boots and socks also long gone. The room he was in was dirty, but clearly a makeshift cell. His head was throbbing something fierce, and his arms were burning. Meaning he had been in this position for a good couple of hours.

Still, Dick couldn’t help but smile when he didn’t spot any cameras in the room, clearly whoever kidnapped him were taking Richard Grayson. Not Nightwing, which was their first mistake. Never underestimate your opponent.

Not able to revel in this small victory for long, the only door being yanked open, Dick put on his best smile as a group of men strolled in. “Hello gentlemen, which one of you have I pissed off today?”

Chuckling one man stepped forward, smile yellow and hair greasy. “You messed up big time pretty boy, Danny was one of my men. You’re about to regret sending him to an early grave.”

Snorting Dick tested the chains around his wrists as he looked at the man before him, unamused. “Revenge, how original. So, let me guess torture then death?”

Barking out another laugh the crime boss turned slightly, taking a pair of brass knuckles from one of his henchmen. “Not exactly, would be kind of pointless to not cash in on the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Though I think I’ll keep you around for a few days before we contact father dearest.”

The snarky remark on the tip of his tongue died instantly when a fist was dug into his ribs. The added brass knuckles caused Dick’s skin to tear and ooze blood. Panting Dick smiled, eyes twinkling. “Gonna have to do better than that.”

Leaning in the man gripped Dick’s chin in a bruising grip, sharing his own smile as his fowl breath tickled Dick’s nose. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

At some point Dick let his eyes fall closed, focusing on trying his best to keep his breathing even. Blow after blow and Dick felt his arms trembling above him. His skin growing slick with blood and sweat. Still, Dick never let a cry slip past his lips, not when his ribs began to snap, or skin was beaten black and bloody.

Clearly Dick’s iron will outlasted the boss’s stamina, for soon the beating stopped and Dick was left alone, toes barley brushing the dirty, cold ground.

Hissing Dick let his eyes flutter open, as he scanned the room. Dick had worse beatings from the Joker as he ran around the streets of Gotham as Robin, still the pain was hard to get under control.

Considering Dick had no intentions of having to see Bruce the young man gripped the chains, pulling his feet over his head. Dick whimpered as his ribs were put under pressure, his left shoulder dislocating due to the sudden weight after being under constant stress.

Gritting his teeth Dick contorted his body, bringing the crotch of his pants to his bound hands. They should have taken them, stripped Dick down to the bone. It was a fatal mistake for Dick’s kidnappers as he pulled out a lockpick from the seam of his zipper.

Shackles opened Dick flipped, landing low to the ground as he gripped his limp arm close to his body. Carefully the man made his way to the door, pressing his ear to the wood. Not hearing any movement on the other side Dick pushed it open, using the door frame to snap his shoulder back into place.

Biting at his already split lip Dick swallowed down the pain, closing his eyes for only a moment before he wandered down the hall, following the sound of idle chatter.

Dick didn’t hesitate to pounce, his body moving with grace. One by one henchmen tumbled to the ground. Dick even laughed when he picked up a bat and the boss turned tail and tried to bolt. “Don’t run! I was enjoying our time together!”

“L-look man I can make this up to you!”

Flipping the bat in his hand Dick smiled, preparing to swing. His ribs screamed in pain; body being pushed to the limit. But the pain didn’t show on his face, nor in his voice. “Doubt that.”

A loud crack bounced of the walls of the warehouse and Dick slouched, hissing, he nursed his ribs as he looked around. This was going to be a problem; how could he explain that he took out twenty armed men alone and beaten to a pulp?

Swooping in as Nightwing was the obvious answer but the goons would surlily slip about Kidnapping Dick. He really didn’t want to be put under the spotlight. Worse this could be twisted, made to look like Dick had been seeking revenge.

“Damn.”

“I was about to say the same thing.”

Whipping around Dick dropped switching his bat out for the boss’s pistol. Then Dick faltered, gun wavering ever so slightly. His voice was bewildered, bright blue eyes widening. “Deathstroke?”

The mercenary in question tilted his head to the side, clearly not amused. “You just cost me a lot of money, boy.”

The tone had Dick shivering as he stood, letting the gun drop to his side as he got up on shaky legs. Slade wouldn’t hurt Dick, not if he knew the truth. And clearly Slade had no intentions on talking this out any other way. Deathstroke didn’t take to kindly to his jobs being messed with. Which is why Nightwing tends not to interfere. In return Deathstroke doesn’t take hits in Blüdhaven. Which also means Slade was probably here for Dick, most likely to be the muscle for the later ransom.

Whatever they shared was strained, and what Dick was about to do could cause everything to shatter, but he was running out of options. “Slade.”

That caught the mercenary’s attention. Stepping further out of the shadows Slade looked over Dick, causing the young man to tense. His eyes seemed to focus on a nasty scar just below Dick’s left collar bone. The scar that Deathstroke put there four years ago with his damn katana.

Dick hoped it would be enough, that with his build and voice it’s all Slade should need in order recognize his favorite bird.

Then Slade looked down at the gun in Dick’s hand, and Dick wanted to drop it, let it clatter to the ground. But Dick couldn’t find the will to do so, the weapon brought comfort, security.

Once more an image of Batman flashed behind Dick’s eyes and he sighed long and hard, the action labored thanks to his broken ribs.

It seemed Slade caught onto Dick’s inner turmoil, not commenting on the fact that all he ever wanted was to see Dick hold a gun. “Seems you’ve gotten into some trouble little bird.”

Deflating Dick couldn’t help the small smile that crawled across his lips. Looking around the warehouse Dick felt his world sway and the grip on the gun tightened. “Trouble found me.”

Humming Slade didn’t say anything else as he stepped forward, reaching out and taking the gun out of Dick’s grip with surprisingly gentle fingers. Dick didn’t fight it, nor did he fight when he was scooped up off his feet. He was tired. So damn tired.

He had to visit Amy at the hospital.

Check up on Lillian.

Figure out to do with this whole mess.

And figure out what to tell Bruce when he ultimately hears that Dick took a life.

As if hearing Dicks inner turmoil Slade carried the man out of the warehouse, voice holding a kind tint as he spoke. “Rest, I got you covered.”

Those words were all Dick needed to hear. Eyes fluttering shut Dick let darkness take him, mind and body craving much needed sleep.

-

Dick felt himself begin to awaken and hissed instantly, body screaming at the slightest movement. He pushed forward regardless, fear gripping him for a moment. That was until the familiar surroundings calmed him. Dick was home. Dick was safe now.

He expected to find Slade somewhere in his little apartment. But the only proof the man had been here was the array of stitches and thick bandaging over Dick’s wounds. Sooner or later Slade would reappear, he always did. Even more so now that he knew the truth, Dick’s identity.

That thought should cause Dick to panic, yet he couldn’t bring himself too. If Deathstroke the Terminator wanted Dick dead, he would have been a long time ago.

Following the growl of his own stomach Dick made his way to his small kitchen, freezing to read the note taped to his fridge.

_Don’t go flipping off any buildings with broken ribs and get some sleep you look like shit._

_I’ll_ _Keep an eye on your precious city._

_-S_

Smile small Dick left the note, it felt right to leave it among the photos of his friends and family. Grabbing a bowl of cereal Dick turned to his chiming phone, now sporting a shattered screen thanks to last night. He scrolled threw his messages, pausing when he read over one from his captain.

Apparently, Lillian was demanding to see her hero, for she never got to say thank you.

Heart light Dick let a smile fall on his lips, looking over his apartment with a newfound resolve. The words from Bruce and Batman’s glare left Dick’s mind and he felt a peace.

Dick didn’t need Batman’s approval or respect; his opinion wasn’t everything. Not when little girls like Lillian called him a hero, and men like Deathstroke were willing to help him, respected him.

Nightwing wasn’t Batman.

He could be better by following his own path.


End file.
